If It Walks Like One
by pillar-of-salt
Summary: A zombie outbreak falls under State Department purview, right?


A/N: I wanted to challenge myself to write a terrible, terrible trope, so here is a zombie AU that absolutely no one asked for. Crackfic, obviously (or at least it would be, if I was funny).

* * *

Elizabeth was elbow-deep in a sea of fiscal reports when she heard the shriek.

She paused. It sounded like it might have been Nadine, except she'd never heard Nadine make a sound like that.

It was followed by a bang and a crash, and a yelped "Holy shit!" that definitely sounded like Matt. A horrified Matt.

She opened her door and marched right down the hall toward her staff's block. Most of the offices were empty, and all of the commotion seemed to be coming from inside Nadine's office. Though the blinds were drawn, the door was propped open, and so Elizabeth peered inside. "What in the world is—" She stopped abruptly, trying to process exactly what she was seeing. She backed up so hard that she slammed into the wall behind her.

Nadine had somehow scaled the filing cabinet in the far corner of her office, and was now balanced on top of it like a cat in an unstable tree, all color drained from her face. In the other corner, Matt held out a coat rack in front of him like a weapon.

An in the center of the room swayed a gruesomely greying, decayed, slimy, hissing thing — a thing that looked very much like it had once been a _person_.

Matt looked up at Elizabeth briefly. Sweat had broken out across his brow. "It's a zombie, ma'am," he supplied, his voice quivering. "I mean, I — I think it is. I don't know what else it could be."

Zombies. In Washington D.C.

Did something happen to the world while she wasn't looking?

"And I can tell you from looking at this thing that this isn't some kind of sick —" Matt began, but when the thing jerked and stumbled forward again, Matt's mouth snapped shut. He looked like he was galvanizing himself for something.

"Matt..." Nadine hissed warningly.

A second later, he charged forward until he could ram the point of coat rack into the center of the thing's forehead. He shoved it back, back, back, and slammed it into the glass wall, and with a large heave, he pushed the oak tip all the way through to the back of its skull. The pane shivered. It stopped moving.

Thick, black fluid seeped between the blinds and oozed down the glass.

Elizabeth's lip curled.

Matt jerked the coat rack out of the creature and dropped it to the floor with a thud, breathing hard. The thing collapsed on the carpet.

He continued as if there was no interruption. "This isn't some kind of sick joke. I have no idea what the hell is going on, but that —" he pointed at the creature, "—is real."

"I have so many questions," Elizabeth heard herself say hoarsely. She didn't know if she _had_ the words to adequately describe her current confusion and horror.

Matt nodded in agreement, but said nothing. After a long second, he seemed to remember himself, and turned and walked over to where Nadine was still perched precariously on the file cabinet, and held it stable while she climbed down.

"Are there... have you seen any other ones?" Elizabeth asked. Nadine turned, smoothing down her slacks, and she and Matt both shook their heads.

"But they could be anywhere in the building," Nadine said. She looked like she might be sick at the thought.

"Let's... let's get the others," Elizabeth said.

"They're in the conference room."

That explained why they hadn't heard the commotion. When those heavy oak doors closed, all sound was sealed out.

Elizabeth scanned up and down the hallway — it seemed clear, and everything was quiet. Today was Sunday, and on the weekend there wasn't much foot traffic on this floor let alone in the building. "Alright, come on," she said, beckoning them to follow, "And let's try very hard not to get killed. Matt, bring that thing with you."

She walked back down the hall toward her office — she'd go through the door connecting it to the conference room, and not through the main atrium — and they followed close behind. She shut the door after them and waved them onto the conference room while she went to her desk. "Brief the team. I'm gonna call DS to get their asses up here." While they figured this out, it wouldn't hurt to have a few extra hands (combat-trained hands) at their side. Matt and Nadine slipped through the side door as she dialed the number.

"Hey Matt," she said into the handset when the agent picked up. "We have a bit of a situation up here. Looks like zombies. No. No, I'm dead serious. No, I know. Look, I get that, but— For God's sake Matt, I'm not fucking around! I need you up here _immediately_." She hung up, effectively ending any further protest on his part. She never cursed at the people who were charged with her safety, but this seemed like an exceptional situation. It was the only time-conscious way she could think of to impress on him how much she was _seriously_ not kidding.

Did a zombie crisis fall under State's executive authority?

At least part of the clean up would probably fall to State, once this was over and done with. She wondered which bureau chief this ought to be delegated to once the immediate dangers were eliminated.

Nadine would probably know.

Just as Elizabeth was contemplating this, Jay, Daisy, Blake, and Nadine all barreled back into the office with Matt bringing up the rear, still dragging the coat rack behind him. He shut the door firmly, and they all stared at each other for a long second.

Finally, Jay broke the silence. "Zombies, ma'am?" He sounded tired.

"Look," she said, gesturing aggressively between herself, and Nadine (who still looked mildly traumatized), and Matt (who looked downright crazed), "We saw it. Matt killed it. This is happening."

Daisy, who was absorbed in her doom tablet, swore softly as she swiped through a few different alerts on the screen. "It's happening," she confirmed grimly. She held up the screen for them to see.

It was a live news broadcast, showing the streets of downtown D.C. Traffic was at a standstill. People were running, fighting. Straggling packs of those _things_ trudged along the road; slow, but violent when they ran into someone. It was pure fucking chaos.

"On the bright side," Daisy offered, "the experts say that the infection has been contained to this city." She didn't sound like she found the bright side all that comforting. "It's… it's considered an outbreak, but not an apocalypse."

Elizabeth squinted suspiciously. " _Experts?_ We have _experts_ in this field?"

Daisy shrugged. Before she could respond, the office door suddenly burst open and Nadine let out a small yelp.

It was the DS squad.

Just three of them: Agents Matt, Joe, and Kendall.

Elizabeth ignored her Chief of Staff's undignified outburst; the woman had good reason to feel a little jumpy. "Did you guys see anything?" she asked her guys.

"They have infiltrated the building," Agent Matt confirmed grimly.

Well, look who no longer thought she was off her rocker.

"Did you see any more on this floor?" she asked.

"Not yet. Some in the stairwell. We blocked up those doors as much as possible, but if the bodies begin to pile up against the barricades..."

"Can we use the elevators?" Blake asked.

Agent Kendall turned. "Only if you enjoy the possibility of being killed in one," he said. Blake paled.

Daisy cut in. "So what you're saying is that we're just... stuck up here. Until the world goes to hell."

"We have been informed that this is not an apocalypse ma'am, just an outbreak," Kendall said with greater conviction than Daisy had been able to manage when _she'd_ said it. She crossed her arms, unimpressed.

"So what does that mean for us?" Matt demanded. "Exactly how much danger are we in?"

"We will assess the situation as we go." He kept his tone frustratingly neutral.

"But that doesn't really answer my—"

Kendall turned to address Elizabeth directly. "Your family has already been delivered safely to the bunker, ma'am."

"Oh, thank god. Let me just—" Elizabeth pulled out her phone and dialed Henry's number. "It'll just take a second," she said as she waited for the line to connect, as if anyone would begrudge her this phone call.

Henry picked up midway through the first ring. "Babe, are you alright? Where are you?"

"I'm at the office with my staff. We're… no one's hurt, and the floor seems clear. Kendall says you guys are at the bunker?"

"Yeah, they picked us up twenty minutes ago. Elizabeth, the streets…"

"I know." She eyed the tablet where it rested in Daisy's arms. "The world has officially gone crazy."

"Listen to me," Henry said urgently, "Watch out for yourself, okay? If you have to fight, long weapons only. Don't get close to these things."

"I'll be careful," she whispered. "Henry, I love you. I'll be careful, I promise."

"You'd better. Come home to me." His breath hitches, then cleared his throat. "Hey, ah, the kids want to talk to you too. I'm gonna put Jase on first. I love you, baby." More distantly, as if he was handing off the phone to someone else, she heard him say, "Keep it short, guys."

Elizabeth thanked her lucky stars that all _three_ of her children were together, that her whole family was safely removed from the threat of whatever the hell was possibly going to happen to her. She spoke to each of them, giving three repeated assurances of her own safety: that she would be careful, that she was in the next-safest place besides the bunker (potentially a lie), and that she loved them and would see them soon (hopefully not a lie).

When she hung up, everyone around her also seemed to be getting off the phones with their own loved ones, and they began to look around at each other with faces of grim determination.

"We'll have to fight," Jay said, and he didn't phrase it as a question.

Matt spoke up. "You have to get 'em in the brain." He gestured to the stained end of the coat rack that stood next to him. "That's the only way they'll die." He paused. "Well… according to _The Walking Dead_."

Nadine stared at him aghast. "You're going to base our survival off of a _television show_?"

"Hey, you weren't complaining ten minutes ago! It's worked out well thus far, so unless you have any better ideas…" He waited, but she closed her mouth and shook her head. He turned to the others. "Or if anyone else does, I am all ears." There was a general chorus of _no's_. "Okay then. And on that note, don't let them bite you. That's how you turn."

"I can't even believe we are having this conversation," Blake muttered.

"We need weapons," Elizabeth announced. "I want everyone to arm up. Something big or something long; something that will keep you far away from these things. So, um..." she looked around her office for inspiration. "Help yourselves, I guess. I think maybe if we could—"

There was a hard thud against the door. Everyone froze.

"Fuck," Joe said. In unison, all three agents drew their guns and advanced, strategically placing themselves in front of and flanking everyone else.

"Guys," Elizabeth said warily.

"The barricade on the stairwell didn't hold," Kendall said. "We'll do what we can to hold them off obviously, but we don't know how many are behind that door or how this is gonna go—"

There was another thud.

Jay sprinted over to the corner of the room and seized on the small end table there; the lamp on top he set on the ground, and then the table itself he flipped upside down. He kicked hard at the wooden legs until they broke off.

From behind Elizabeth's desk, Blake dragged out the flag, pulling off the fabric and casting it aside. He handed the naked flagpole to Elizabeth, who immediately handed it off to Nadine.

Matt nervously curled his hands around his coat rack as Jay handed out two-foot-long, makeshift stakes to Elizabeth, Daisy, and Blake.

Elizabeth looked around wildly for a hot second. "Matt! Give me your other gun."

Agent Matt twisted to look at her in confusion. "Ma'am?"

"Your gun. You have another one, don't you?" When he hesitated too long for her liking, she wiggled her fingers impatiently. "Oh for goodness sake, it's of more use in my hands than on your leg."

Begrudgingly, he leaned down and unstrapped the handgun from his ankle. "You know how to use it?"

"What do you think I did at the CIA?"

He handed it over reluctantly. And then Blake half-raised his hand. "Um, can I have one too?"

The impacts against the door became an alarmingly continuous pounding, as if several bodies had begun to beat against it, but for a moment everyone turned to stare at Blake.

He explained. "My uncle — not the catfish farmer, the other one — taught me how to hunt when I was young. I'm a fairly good shot..."

"This ain't a shotgun, boy," Kendall said.

"I know how to use a pistol, too."

"Shooting ain't like riding a bike."

"You know, as it turns out, not many things are." Kendall was unamused, but he nevertheless unstrapped his second firearm and tossed it to Blake, who caught it against his chest. "Thank you."

"Once you start shooting, more will come," regular-Matt warned. "The sound will draw them out."

"I prefer that over hand-to-hand combat, and those might be our only two options," Joe said.

Now, the pounding was accompanied with the sound of wood cracking and splintering.

"Does anyone else know how to shoot?" Kendall asked, raising his voice over the commotion. "We don't have enough firepower to arm everyone."

"What about knives?" Daisy asked, but he pursed his lips in disapproval.

"You don't want to get close enough to them to have to use it," he said, but pulled a long, fixed blade off of his belt strap and handed it to her. "Last resort only."

Daisy yanked it free of its sheath. Next to her, Matt clucked doubtfully. "Do you even know how to use that thing?"

She rounded on him, pointing the tip toward his chin. "Yep. You insert the sharp end into anything disagreeable. I can demonstrate on you, since you fit the criteria."

He backed off swiftly. Daisy readjusted her grip, knife in one hand and wooden table leg in the other.

"When they break through," Agent Matt said, "they'll only be able to come in a few at a time so it should be relatively easy to pick them off. The sound will draw all of them through this way, so then the rest of you can slip out through the side and exit through the conference room doors. Try to be quiet about it."

"And go where?" Jay said.

"Around the back and get them from behind. Joe will go with you."

"Wait — you and Kendall can't hold them off in here just the two of you," Elizabeth said. "You'll be overwhelmed. I'll stay here."

"Absolutely not."

"That is not a suggestion, Agent," she said sharply.

"I don't take orders from you, ma'am."

"You do today."

"Ma'am, I _highly—_ "

"Look, we don't have time to argue. These are extraordinary circumstances, and all hands are on deck today, including mine. I promise I've got your back. Okay?"

There was another deafening crack. He closed his mouth and nodded curtly.

"Good." She positioned herself on the right side of her other two agents and glanced at Joe and the others. "Get ready," she told them. One more big shove and that door was going down. She tucked her wooden stake into the back of her pants, disengaged the safety on her gun, and raised her hands to aim at the door.

Meanwhile, Jay quietly opened the side door for Joe, and the agent went through with his weapon drawn. He poked his head back in a few seconds later. "Clear."

Daisy, Matt, and Nadine all followed him through, the latter two carefully holding their long weapons so that they wouldn't accidentally hit something and cause a racket. Jay followed them, and Blake brought up the rear with his own gun drawn against his leg. He quietly closed the door behind them.

Seconds later, the main door splintered and broke open.

* * *

Blake was following the group to the front of the conference room when the firing started. It was steady, calm; there was no panic in the shots being taken by the three in that room. Blake saw that as a good sign. They could do this. He could do this. _Everyone_ could do this. Nobody was going to die today.

Joe slid the front doors apart an inch and peered through the gap. Faintly, between the sound of the shots, they heard the continuous, dry rattle of dead folks. Or un-dead folks, depending on how one looked at it. He turned. "It looks like they're all piled up at the office entrance," he said in a low voice. "No stragglers in the atrium."

"How many?" Nadine whispered.

"Impossible to tell from here. Okay, this is the plan. Hey, James Bond," he said.

"It's Blake."

"James Bond," he said. "When Kendall gives the signal, you and I are gonna go out there and start picking off the ones that are left. The rest of you—" he looked at everyone else— "will stay in here. Defend the room if you have to, but avoid close-range fighting as much as possible. Got it?"

Everyone nodded grimly.

Blake wondered if the 'signal' that Joe was talking about was one that would signify that they were being overwhelmed in the other room. What sight was going to greet Blake when he walked in there? Would he find his boss bitten and on her way to turning into one of those _things_? Would he have to shoot her in the head in order to save her from that fate?

If he did, then he'd have to shoot _himself_ immediately thereafter. That was the only way he'd be able to escape the fury that would be Henry McCord — a fate Blake was sure would be far worse than death.

He didn't have much time to contemplate this; just then, under the sounds of a veritable hailstorm, he heard Kendall bellow, " _JOE!_ "

"Look alive, double-oh-seven," Joe said to him. He cocked his gun and Blake followed suit. When Joe pushed the doors open just wide enough to slip through, Blake was right behind him. They padded over, and Blake had to choke back a gasp.

The entrance to the inner office was blocked off by a knee-high pile of bodies, which spilled over into the office itself. About a dozen or so more were currently attempting to climb over them to get to the fresh meat inside.

Joe stopped just off to the side and raised his gun. With barely a pause, he double-tapped three bodies in quick succession. Hesitantly, Blake tried to follow suit.

His shot went wide; the bullet buried itself in the drywall behind his target. And now, the other miserable cretins had reversed direction and were heading straight for them.

Crap.

Blake exhaled sharply and tried to center his weight. His palms itched. Joe dropped a fourth one. From inside the office, someone managed to hit one of the stragglers at the back of the group. Blake raised his gun again and aimed. He shot three times, and the body at the front of the pack collapsed where it stood.

"Hah!" he said triumphantly.

"Keep going, wunderkind," Joe said. "We're not in the clear yet." He took a step back as the group advanced on them, and shot another body through the eye socket.

His sense of confidence renewed, Blake fired again and the bullet went through the forehead of the frontman. As the body went down he tried not to think about who it had once been. Who it had been _yesterday_. Possibly an employee. Whatever.

He shuffled backward and shot another one, but the bullet merely tore through the side of its throat. It collapsed from the impact but it continued to crawl toward him. Blake raised and fired again and killed the one that had been behind it. And then the one behind that one, though this took more tries than he could probably afford.

He backed up some more as the crawling fucker came closer and closer; as it extended a slimy hand and grazed the hem of his slacks, Blake cursed and jerked his leg away. He aimed low and pulled the trigger, but it clicked hollowly. Feeling a sick wave of panic, he stomped down hard on its face instead. It collapsed under his foot like a rotting jack-o-lantern.

When he looked up again, Joe had taken care of the remaining few and nothing was moving. The agent shoved aside a body with his foot. "All clear out here!"

"All clear in here," Agent Matt called back.

From his pocket, Joe pulled out a fresh magazine and tossed it to Blake. "Not bad for a civilian."

"Thanks," he said in a tight voice. As he reloaded his gun, he resolved to shoot more conscientiously next time. With emphasis on ammo conservation.

Through the open doorway, Blake saw the Secretary's hand (and gun) stick out and shoot three times into the body pileup. When she was satisfied with their lifelessness, she stepped over the heap and made her way over to the couch.

Agents Matt and Kendall emerged next; Blake was relieved to see that they all remained unscathed. Dr. McCord would be pleased.

"Great shots, Madam Secretary," Kendall said.

She grinned. "Thanks, dude."

They barely even looked perturbed — as if this was just another day at the office. Blake wished he could say the same for himself. He probably looked like he felt — ready to puke.

"All good there, Blake?" the Secretary asked.

"Thriving, ma'am." He inspected his shoes and suppressed the urge to dry-heave. They were officially, desperately ruined.

Behind him, the conference doors whispered open and the rest of the staff joined them, still clutching their make-do weaponry.

"Holy Mother of God," Matt said. He took in the scene at his feet.

"Come on in," the Secretary said. "Don't mind the mess." She reached behind her and pulled the table leg out of her pants. She tossed it on the coffee table and propped her feet up next to it.

They all inched into the room nervously, trying to give the twice-dead bodies as wide a berth as possible. By Nadine's foot, a partially-decapitated head snapped its teeth at her as she passed, and so she slammed the base of her flagpole down on it violently several times before skittering away.

The force of her blows had spattered goo across the bottom of Jay's pants, and he observed this with a small frown. "Well you got him," he said dryly.

"Sorry."

Agent Matt was just getting off the phone when Daisy turned to him. "So _now_ what's the plan?"

"The CDC has ordered a team of post-mortem exterminators into Washington. They are expected to arrive on the ground in two hours."

Daisy raised her eyebrows. "Two hours? Isn't the CDC like two miles down the road?"

"This contingent is not from the Washington branch. They were dispatched from Infectious Diseases headquarters in Atlanta."

" _Atlanta!"_ she nearly screeched.

"Yes ma'am. Apparently, they don't train zombie killers at the Washington office."

"Maybe they'll rethink that policy after this," she muttered. "So what, we just wait here until they show up to save us?"

"And try not to die before they get here. That is correct. We're doing great so far," he added, as if trying to be encouraging. "Continue to remain vigilant. We're going to take a lap around the floor." He nodded at Joe and Kendall, and they all walked away before Daisy could complain any further.

The Secretary patted the cushions in invitation. Jay was too restless, but Daisy and Matt took up her silent offer and flopped down on either side of her. Nadine perched herself on the wing chair by the window and Blake took up one of its armrests for himself. He rested the Glock on his thigh awkwardly, unsure of where to put it.

"We're gonna have to rip up all of this carpet," the Secretary said glumly.

"We don't have the budget for that," Nadine said immediately, and Blake couldn't tell if she was joking or not. He'd skimmed the fiscal reports from this quarter though, and so he didn't think he would be at all surprised if he were to discover that they actually, literally could not afford to replace the carpet.

On said carpet, something growled and rolled over. Before Elizabeth could even reach for her gun, Blake had already lifted his and put a single bullet through its head.

There was a second of stunned silence, and then Agents Matt and Joe came sprinting back in.

"What—"

"All good in here," Blake reassured. "All's dead that should be."

"I leave you guys alone for one minute…" Joe grumbled, but both agents were already on their way back to whatever they'd been in the middle of.

After a pause, regular-Matt said, "So... your uncle hunts."

"Oh. Yeah. But I haven't talked to him in, like, _years_. A bunch of Christmases ago I had words with him about the second amendment, and he hasn't spoken to me since."

"And your _other_ uncle farms catfish." Blake nodded. Matt said, "Where is your family from, again?"

"Brooklyn."

"Right."

"I don't get it either," he offered.

"We all have our baggage, man."

"I mean, I don't really think of that as—"

"You know, that reminds me of my great uncle Richard," Matt began, and Blake gave up on defending himself.

As Matt began to gather steam, holding court with the others, Nadine turned to Blake. In a low voice, she asked, "Did you call your parents? They'd want to hear from you today."

She wasn't wrong to ask — he almost _didn't_ call them. "I did, earlier. Did you call your son?"

"I... left a message."

He clucked his tongue.

"It's the middle of the night where he is," she defended. Blake decided to let her have that one. But when she continued, he began to second-guess his generosity. "And did you call your… what was his name? Daniel? Dylan?" she said. She tried a couple of other 'D' names out loud.

He rolled his eyes. "It's Darren, and for the last time, he wasn't my _anything_ ," he muttered, "so no, I didn't call him."

"But it could be the end of the world," she pointed out. "If there was ever a time to mend fences…"

"No, it's definitely done," he said firmly. It had been a fling; nothing even remotely close to the realm of 'apocalyptic declarations of love'.

"Pity. You two were _so_ attractive together."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. What about you?" he fired back. "Did you call Mike Barnow?"

That shut her up immediately. "Fair point," she relented, and he fought the urge to grin. Nadine rarely, if ever, let him win a round.

Faintly, a ringing began to sound somewhere on the floor and everyone froze and went silent. It sounded again.

"Shit," Elizabeth hissed.

"That's my desk phone," Nadine said suddenly.

"Someone go shut that up; it'll attract a swarm."

Nadine leapt up and ran out.

"Blake," Elizabeth began, but he was already halfway out the room and following Nadine down the hall.

"On it," he said. Honestly, what that woman thought she was doing running toward an barely-secured area without a weapon...

"And disconnect all the other office phones while you're at it," Elizabeth called after him.

When Blake reached Nadine in her office, she was hunched over the handset, talking into it very quietly.

"—call you again after it's been… Yes. Yeah, I promise. Roman, I have to go now. I love you." Nadine put the receiver back and then ducked under the desk to yank the cords free of the outlet. A second later and she unplugged a few other things, and Blake watched her computer monitor go black.

"Roman called back?" he asked.

She resurfaced. "Yes," she said, with obvious relief. He hadn't realized just how tense she'd been until now; it threw her earlier bearing into stark contrast.

"That's good. I'm glad."

She smiled graciously. "Thank you," she said, but didn't linger any longer on the topic. In the next breath, she was already back to business. "So if you unplug all of the electronics in Jay's office, I'll take care of Matt and Daisy's—"

"Yeah, no, we're not splitting up," Blake said. "That's literally how every person in every horror movie dies."

"We'll be like six feet away from each other," she began, but he wasn't into it.

"Nope, not taking any chances. MSec'll shoot _me_ if we don't both walk back in there in one piece. It'll just take a couple more minutes."

She conceded. They went office by office and pulled every plug they could find with quick and quiet efficiency. Good teamwork, Blake thought. Good hustle. As they made their way back up the hallway toward the Secretary's office, Nadine stopped and patted her pockets. "Wait," she said, "I think I forgot my glasses."

She turned around just as Blake was responding, "Nope they're on your head," and froze. Her hand shot out and seized his arm in a death grip. She was staring straight ahead, so he followed her gaze.

At the end of the long hallway, a slow-moving thing limped toward them.

Blake made a split-second decision.

"Okay, crash course." He shoved his gun into her hands, wrapped her smaller fingers firmly around the grip, and covered them with his own.

"No, Blake, I don't want—"

"You'll be safer with this than you would be with anything else," he said over her, "and so I want you to know how to use it." He showed her how to pull the slide back to load the chamber.

And as an afterthought, he added, "Plus, I have _no_ idea which Assistant Secretary is supposed to handle damage control after this, so I need you to stay alive and sort that out. Lock your arms." She did as he said and he continued, " _Especially_ if it's that awful woman with the bottle-red hair. You're the only person on earth she's afraid of."

She twisted to look at him, startled. "Jocelyn Peters is afraid of me?"

He faced her forward again by turning her shoulders squarely. "We'll discuss it later. Plant your feet and aim."

"That bitch," she muttered under her breath.

He tapped her ankles with the point of his shoe to adjust her stance. He raised the gun with her. "Remember to breathe. Don't let the sound or the recoil scare you, okay?" He guided her finger over the trigger as the thing got closer, then he paused. He didn't fire. "We're just gonna wait a sec," he said. The thing continued to advance, and he didn't move.

"Blake," she said nervously. It got closer.

"We're trying not to waste bullets," he said.

And closer.

"Blake..."

"You don't want to miss," he insisted.

It was less than twenty feet away. Another one had appeared behind it.

" _Blake!_ "

"Don't freak out. Squeeze." They fired. One bullet slammed squarely into the thing's face, and it crumpled in front of them and ceased to move.

"Holy shit," Nadine said in a strangled voice.

In response to the loud bang, the other one emitted a screeching death rattle and marched toward them purposefully. "I'm going to let go now," Blake said. "This one's yours." He released her hands. A distant part of his brain registered that their colleagues had begun to gather behind them in the hall, jolted into high alert by the gunshot.

Nadine fired almost reactively as panic got the best of her. The bullet glanced off of the thing's shoulder and it stumbled, but did not pause. She swallowed.

"Breathe," Blake reminded her softly.

She inhaled through her nose, exhaled through her mouth. She readjusted her grip. She readjusted her aim. She forced herself to wait as the thing came straight at them. And when it got almost within arms' reach, she shot it between the eyes.

It blasted backward and Nadine jumped half a foot into the air, coming down on Blake's foot painfully.

"Heels," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Your heels."

"Sorry, sorry." She stepped off of him gingerly.

"Good job, though," he said with a grimace.

"Everyone good?" Jay queried from the back, sounding wary.

"Um. Yeah," Nadine said in a small voice. And then again, louder, so that Jay could actually hear her.

"Good job, Nadine," Daisy called supportively.

Nadine gingerly offered the gun back to Blake, but he shook his head.

"You know how to use it now; it's yours." He engaged the safety. "You can flip that off again when you're ready to hit something. And this is common sense, but don't point it at anyone. And keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to fire."

"Yeah, got it," she said. "But what about you?"

"Agent Joe probably has one he hasn't given away yet. And if not, I'll use that flagpole. I used to take fencing lessons as a kid, so maybe some of those skills will somehow magically translate." He doubted it.

Nadine, for her part, simply stared at him. "I don't understand you sometimes, Blake."

"You'd be surprised how often I get that."

"You know, I don't think I would."

He rolled his eyes. "Let's just hope Joe will give me a gun."

Speak of the devil.

Joe came jogging down the hallway — less urgently this time around. "Another one?"

"Yep."

He swore. "Where do they keep coming from? We've secured all the exits."

"You haven't secured at least one exit," Blake offered, unhelpfully. He barreled on before Joe could find his quip properly unfunny. "Do you have another gun?"

Joe narrowed his eyes. "What, you lose yours?"

"I gave it to Nadine and taught her how to use it."

He seemed to deem that an acceptable answer, because he unstrapped his ankle holster and handed the whole thing over to Blake without argument.

"Extra mag?" Blake asked.

Joe gave him one.

"Thank you." Blake pocketed the ammo and freed the gun from its holster. "We really are fine here," he added. "It's probably better for everyone if you're securing the floor and not babysitting all of us."

"Kepe the Secretary alive," Joe warned as he walked away. Blake responded in the affirmative, but privately he thought that the Secretary was doing just fine keeping herself alive without his help. He rejoined everyone in the outer office again, sitting and waiting for the next minor crisis to occur.

* * *

Jay had to piss like a racehorse.

It wasn't that he was afraid to go to the bathroom alone; he just couldn't think of a single worse fate than to be surprise-attacked by zombies when his dick was out.

Maybe dying of a bladder infection.

There was a restroom just off of the press briefing room, a hundred steps away; he could definitely make it there and back alive. For god's sake — the Secretary, Blake, Matt, even _Nadine_ had managed to get at least one kill under their belts already (not that he was counting); he could handle leaving to take a leak. If he happened to come across a zombie on the way, well, he could put himself on the scoreboard, too.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he announced.

Matt looked at him. "Do you need back up?"

"To piss? I can do that alone, thanks," he said. He put one of the wooden stakes in the back pocket of his slacks.

"Suit yourself. Don't do anything stupid."

Jay slipped out and crossed the atrium and press room (which were both empty). He made it to the restroom (which was also empty) and used the facilities without incident. But when he opened the door to leave, something hissed at him from the other side.

He let the door fall shut. Okay. He could take care of that.

Jay pulled out his weapon and held it at the ready. He took a second to compose himself, then pulled the door open again, wide.

The zombie lunged for him, and he side-stepped its grasp before ramming the tip of his stake into its face. It crumpled. He left it on the bathroom floor as he carefully opened the door again and slipped out. Good start.

The press room was still free of beings, but when Jay reached the atrium, there were two there that trudged toward him in a single-file line. He dispatched the first one easily, then turned his attention to the one behind it. And did a double take.

Was _that..._

"Walter Nowack?" he blurted.

The department's nuclear armageddon expert gave a mournful rattle. He looked definitively worse for wear; all grey in the face and black in the teeth. And Jay thought _he_ was having a bad day. Damn.

That second of hesitation was all Nowack needed to close the distance between them. He grabbed onto Jay's lapels, bared his teeth, and tried to tear out his jugular. Jay stumbled as he pushed back. He gripped his stake in one hand and drove it through Nowack's chest to little effect — and then he couldn't pull it free again, the piece of wood having somehow jammed between the ribs and gotten stuck. Of course.

"Hey Jay, if you don't keep it down, you're gonna wake the — oh crap." Daisy's voice. She paused and then said, "Wait, is that… is that _Walter Nowack_?"

"You know, I could use a little help here, Daisy," he said through gritted teeth. Nowack was surprisingly strong for a man who looked chronically vitamin D deficient.

Daisy unsheathed her knife and hefted its weight in her hand. She was standing a good ten feet away from him, and didn't look like she was about to move any closer. "I'll throw it to you," she said.

"Are you joking?" he hissed. "I'm a little preoccupied here!"

"No, you're right," she agreed. Cautiously, she walked over to where he was trying very hard to keep the old man's zealous teeth away from his person, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about this, Walter," she said apologetically, and then shoved the blade through his ear. He went limp. Jay nearly collapsed under the weight.

"Thanks," he panted, and shoved the body off of himself and onto the floor.

"Yeah, anytime." Daisy bent down to clean the blade, wiping Walter's brains onto Walter's suit jacket. Then she braced one foot on his chest and pulled out the stupid table leg with a heave. Something inside of him snapped in the process. She handed it back to Jay. "Should've just stayed in bed today," she said. He couldn't help but agree.

They began to walk back toward the office when suddenly, every telephone at every desk in the atrium began to ring. At the same time.

They exchanged alarmed looks. "Fuck," Jay said. He whirled around. From the other end of the atrium, all three DS agents were already jogging toward them. They pulled cords from outlets as they went, but Jay knew it was already too late for that.

"Game faces, guys," Elizabeth announced. Everyone had come out to join him and Daisy, and along with Agents Matt, Joe, and Kendall, they fell into some kind of semi-sensible formation. Elizabeth fiddled with her gun, loading a new mag and then pulling back the slide. "Assuming we make it out of this alive," she said, "I'll give you all the day off tomorrow. Someone else can handle cleanup."

"It should be Assistant Secretary Peters," Nadine said immediately. "Biological fallout definitely falls under her bureau's purview."

"See, I _knew_ you would know."

Privately, Jay was pretty sure Nadine was wrong, but he wasn't going to question it. He hated Joss Peters, and so the idea of dumping all of this shit directly into her lap felt deeply satisfying to him.

The first couple walkers began to appear from around the corner.

"Good hunting, everyone," Elizabeth said. "We should all get drinks after this is over." She raised her weapon, and took the first shot.

* * *

 _Fin_.

I don't even like zombies.


End file.
